


Between the Woods and the Hills

by christallized



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Fantasy AU, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Romance, fey marc rights, wholesome bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christallized/pseuds/christallized
Summary: Nathaniel has been told to keep his abilities a secret all his life, told that magic is dangerous and untrustworthy. But when he encounters a fey in the woods with shining green eyes and a smile that steals his heart, he starts to believe that maybe magic can make something beautiful.A Fantasy Marc/Nath AU
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	1. The Fey and the Goat

"Oh, come on!" Nathaniel Kurtzberg placed a hand on the first tree into the forbidden woods, trying to peer into the twisting forest. "Where did you go?"

It was going to be sunset soon. He should go back to the village. His, face, neck, and arms were already red and sunburnt from spending the day outside, watching the goat herd. And _of course_ one of the old nannies had decided to wander into the forest just as he was getting ready to shepherd the flock back home.

"I'll take the herd back," his friend Alix had reassured him. "You go find Missy, she's probably sleeping in one of the alcoves in the hills. Besides, she doesn't listen to me anyway."

Nathaniel slapped away a mosquito that was circling him with an annoying whine. There was the sound of a bell, somewhere far ahead of him, followed by a single bleat. She was somewhere ahead.

Nathaniel looked back at the town, just visible in the distance. He could see the shapes of houses in the bright orange glare of the sun, trails of smoke rising up. If he was careful, he could grab her and get back to the village before learning why these woods were forbidden.

 _Magic_ , some villagers whispered. _The dark wizard Hawkmoth lives deep in the forest. It is from these forests that his magic comes from, akumatizing your friends, your children, if you aren't careful, if you're unlucky._

If this forest really was magical, maybe he'd be okay. Maybe he'd be lucky.

Another bleat, this time from farther away.

"Screw it." Nathaniel plunged into the forest.

The forest felt like it was enclosing around him the moment he stepped inside. Tangled branches restricted his view to only a few feet ahead of him. Oranges and reds filtered through too-green leaves, leaving dancing lights across the trunks of trees and creating the illusion of movement in Nathaniel's peripheral vision.

"Missy!" He yelled, hoping that only one creature would listen to him. "Missy, come here!"

The goat called back in response, and Nathaniel pushed forward, deeper into the forest, calling and responding, closer and closer, until-

"Missy! Missy, there you-how did you get up there?"

Nathaniel put his hands on his hips and stared up at the old nanny goat that had secured herself in the tall branches of an oak tree. The goat shook her head, causing the bell on her collar to jingle.

"How am I going to get you down?" Nath reached for the satchel slung around his shoulder. It was regrettably empty of edibles, only holding his sketchbook, some pencils, and other small oddities. He glanced around, looking for anything that might be appetizing to an old goat. Most of the plants around were unfamiliar to him-even the oak tree that Missy was stuck in seemed less like an oak tree the longer he looked at it. The forest was full of unfamiliar plants, as though the magic of this forest had warped normal foliage into something different.

Magic.

The redhead glanced around, checking for prying eyes.

No one was around.

His mother had warned him, told him never to use his powers.

No one would know.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and concentrated.

A small blue light appeared at his fingertips, clumsy and flickering from lack of use. Slowly, a single carrot materialized into existence, dropping into Nathaniel's hands. Missy's ears twitched.

He had her attention now. "Missy? Want the carrot?"

Missy paused for a second, then turned and jumped down from the tree, her bell clanging as she leapt at impossible angles from branch to branch until her hooves touched onto soft grass.

Nathaniel gave her the carrot and rubbed at the fur behind her ears. "You are surprisingly agile for your old age," he cooed. "Let's go home."

He turned and headed back in the direction he came, Missy following obediently after.

As Nathaniel very quickly figured out, the direction he had come from was impossible to discern. Had the trees moved? He was certain that he'd had to crawl over a large root in the ground, but there were no large roots in sight. Was he lost?

The sunlight that had once made the forest seem to have too much movement was quickly fading, and now the forest seemed too lifeless, too quiet and abnormally still.

"Don't worry, girl," Nathaniel said through shaky breaths as he stroked Missy's neck. "We'll find a way out of this."

It was starting to get dark. Nathaniel tried not to panic. Would they even send someone to find him in this forest?

Eventually, the branches opened up, and Nathaniel felt a rush of hope, thinking that they'd escaped, but the opening just led to a clearing that he was certain he hadn't crossed before.

Carefully, Nathaniel stepped into the clearing, looking up. He could see the dark blues of the night sky pulling over the light blue of day, with the first stars beginning to twinkle overhead.

Missy butted at the inside of Nathaniel's knee.

"Sorry, Missy," Nath said, slowly sitting down on the grass with a defeated sigh. "I think we'll have to stay the night."

Nathaniel reviewed his options. He could use his magic to make a shelter, but just making the carrot had taken a lot of energy, and he was very out of practice.

There were probably wild animals in this forest, like wolves or bears. Even worse, there were probably magical creatures in the woods too. Nathaniel tried not to think of the idea of an akuma finding them, vulnerable in the clearing.

Hooking one hand around Missy's collar so she wouldn't slip away again, Nathaniel leant back and let his head rest in the grass. At least the grass was comfortable-soft, even to an unnerving degree-but exhaustion was quickly taking over whatever common sense he had left.

Shifting the satchel so it served as a pillow, he closed his eyes and hoped that he'd see the morning.

~oOo~

Nathaniel dreamt of a large, open room.

He sat up, hands buried into a deep, fancy-looking carpet. There were large windows on either side of the room, with warm light cascading onto a polished wooden floor.

There was an easel in the corner of one room, with an unfinished painting that Nathaniel recognized to be his village. Around the easel were paints, brushes, canvases-some empty and waiting, others filled with beautiful portraits and landscapes in dazzling colors.

"You have beautiful dreams."

Nathaniel turned around, but could only see an empty wall and a closed door with no handles. He turned back to the painting to see someone standing in front of it, indistinct and blurry. It seemed to peer into the picture, as though searching for something.

"I'm sorry?" He asked.

The figure turned to him, features masked in darkness. "You should wake up before your goat destroys all those sketches of yours."

Nathaniel squinted. "What? Who are you-"

~oOo~

Nathaniel's head hit the ground and his eyes snapped open.

Missy had her teeth around his satchel and had pulled it out from under him. She pawed insistently at the flap, and his sketchbook tumbled onto the grass, open and with a few bite marks added to the cover.

"No no, Missy, that's not food," Nathaniel said, pulling the leather satchel out of her teeth and snatching his sketchbook from her immediate biting range. "Hold on, I'll make us some food, just..." he yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Just give me a second."

It was morning. Nathaniel could see the sky above them, cloudless and blue. His joints ached from sleeping on the ground, but at least they weren't dead. Yet.

"Did you chew on my notebook?" Nathaniel asked Missy, who only gave him a dull stare in response. He started flipping through the pages, checking for damage.

"Your drawings look nice," a voice said behind Nathaniel.

Nathaniel shrieked and slammed his book closed, whipping around and getting a crick in his neck from the sudden movement. He winced at the pain, eyes darting around the clearing.

"Sorry," the voice said, and he followed the sound to a cloaked figure sitting in a tree a couple paces away. "I didn't mean to startle you so much."

The figure slid off the branch and landed in the light of the clearing, and Nathaniel felt both a thrill of exhilaration and a rush of terror as his eyes met a startling green stare-the figure in his dreams? How? Why?

The answer came to as he saw the person rise to their full height, pushing back the hood slightly so the sunlight highlighted their features.

A Fey.

Quickly, he scanned the person (boy?) who stood in front of him, slender build and pointed face, well-defined features that were just sharp enough to hint at an otherworldly existence, and piercing emerald eyes that seemed to stare into him-past his skin and directly into his soul. He was too beautiful to be human, he had to be...something else.

His mother had warned him about Feys. Drilled him on rules to follow if he were to ever encounter one. His thoughts were too scattered to remember any of the rules at the moment.

"I don't believe we've met," the Fey said, rubbing the side of his arm and looking down. He wore a red cloak that obscured most of his frame. From under the hood, dark curls framed his cheekbones, his small nose, his pink lips. "Your name, if you don't mind?"

And with a sudden cold jolt, Nathaniel remembered.

      1. _Be courteous to the Fey, but never trust them. They can't lie, but they rarely speak the truth._

      2. _Don't accept gifts from a Fey, especially food._

      3. _NEVER give a Fey your real name._




_Follow these rules and you might survive._

"I...uh..." Nathaniel stammered. "I don't...I'm not supposed to. Give my name."

The Fey paused, looking over him with new interest. "That was probably a wise decision," he said, smiling. "You seem to have at least some grasp of our rules."

"I've been warned about the Fey since I was a child," Nathaniel said, before freezing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, I-"

The Fey raised his hands. "It wasn't taken as such," he assured the redhead. "Why are you here? Generally, people from your village tend to stay away from these woods."

"My goat got lost," Nathaniel said, gesturing to Missy, his fingers still firmly clasped around her collar. The goat, seemingly unbothered by this new arrival, had gone back to dozing peacefully in the grass. "I went to get her back."

"That seems brave of you," The Fey said, pulling the hood of his cloak back and stepping forward. He didn't look sinister, Nathaniel thought as the Fey knelt down in the grass next to Missy and threaded long fingers through her grey fur. He looked honest and shy, nothing like the way Fey had been described in stories.

_He looked cute._

The Fey glanced up at Nathaniel with a smile that disarmed any words in the artist's throat. "I haven't talked with a human for some time," he said. "I apologize if I startled you, but I saw your magic and then I saw your drawings and well..." he looked away, fidgeting with the hem of his cloak.

Nathaniel let out a quiet breath. "You've been watching me all this time?"

The Fey stilled. "Not exactly," he said. "This is my domain, so I know when someone enters into my part of the forest."

"Your forest?"

"Some of it is mine, yes."

Nathaniel shrunk back. "I thought the forest belonged to...him," he whispered. The Fey tilted his head, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Hawkmoth."

"Oh! No, these woods are not his to claim."

"But...the Akuma faeries come from here."

The Fey pointed off into the distance. "They come from much farther than these forests," he said. "I'm not entirely sure where, but make no mistake, you humans are not the only ones who have suffered from his magic. He is an enemy to us as well."

Missy stirred awake again, lazily grabbing Nathaniel's pant leg in her teeth and startling him out of his tense mood.

"Hey! Missy, no, stop trying to eat my stuff!" Nathaniel pulled his leg away. The Fey chuckled, a light, airy laugh that made the artist's heart flutter like a stone skipped across a river.

It was something about this Fey, something he couldn't place, that made his fear melt away even though he should be terrified. His inviting demeanor made smiling seem so much easier than he was used to. Even though he should be wary-someone had seen him use his magic-he felt calm, relaxed, almost. Except for when the Fey was looking at him like this, with an expression that seemed to mark him as the only thing in this forest that mattered.

"Well, I should...I should probably go," Nathaniel said, feeling his face heat up. "Sorry for intruding." He got to his feet, motioning for Missy to follow him.

"Oh," the Fey said. "I...of course. The forest will lead you back to your village," he said, gesturing towards the woods.

"Thank you," Nathaniel said, his words trailing off as a thought came to his head, an old warning about favors that he couldn't quite place. "I...I'm allowed to thank you, right? That's not gonna...'sell my soul' or something?"

The Fey stood, coming to a few inches above Nathaniel's own head. "Normally, yes. It would."

_Shit._

"Thanking a Fey can be attributed to owing them a favor," the Fey explained. "And the Fey could call that favor back someday."

_Double shit._

"However," the Fey stepped back, offering a small smile. "You did give me the chance to see artwork, so I'll consider this to be a favor paid."

Nathaniel didn't realize he had been backing away until the unexpected compliment made him stop. "You...like my art?"

"I didn't see much," the Fey admitted. "But I was interested in what I saw. And..." he looked down at his bare feet, rubbing a toe against the grass, "if you ever felt like coming back...I probably wouldn't mind. I'm interested to see what else you've drawn."

Nathaniel blinked. "So you're not going to trap me here forever and steal my soul?" He asked, almost not believing his luck.

The Fey looked up at him under hooded eyelids, eyes alight and a smirk on his lips. "Would you like me to?"

"Nope! I'm good! Thank-well, see you later!" Nathaniel all but turned and bolted into the forest. His face was definitely on fire now.

What was that? All it took was a glance and now Nathaniel's legs felt boneless. Was it because of fear or...

No.

It can't be that.

It had to be fear that was making his heart beat this way, making his skin tingle and his stomach do flips and turns, making him feel more alive and clammy than he'd ever felt before.

Nathaniel walked through the forest, barely paying attention to how the forest curved around him, leading him, guiding him.

The Fey's pink lips, upturned in a smile, were imprinted in his mind. Fear wouldn't make him recall that laugh so vividly. It wasn't fear that had lit him on fire, that had made him run away.

Far sooner than he had expected, the trees opened up and Nathaniel found himself back in the fields, looking out at his village. He could vaguely see the goat herd heading back out to graze, little black dots against somewhat-green hills.

Nathaniel glanced back at the forest, hoping to see the Fey, hoping not to see him at all.

He swore he could just barely see a pair of green eyes looking back at him in the darkness for a split second before the branches rustled and the glimmer of green disappeared.

He wasn't afraid of the Fey.

He was falling for him.


	2. The Village and its People

Nathaniel saw Alix before she saw him, which was a miracle in itself, since the redheaded boy didn't exactly blend in with the grass. Then again, neither did Alix, circling the herd of goats with her noticeable shock of pink hair visible from a mile away. Still, with the way her head was swiveling from side to side, searching, it was surprising that he was able to get close enough to see the look in her eyes when she finally noticed him.

At first, she froze, body tensing as her eyes rapidly flicked across his face, his clothes, the goat at his side. Then she barreled forward, yelling his name, and Nathaniel barely had time to prepare before he was tackled to the ground by a pink-haired midget.

"Ow! Alix, what gives?"

"What gives?" Alix stared at him. "You were gone all night! I searched for you for hours, thinking that you'd collapsed in the grass or been dragged off by bandits or-where were you?"

Nathaniel brushed himself off, feeling a twinge of guilt and a rumble of hunger. "I was in the forest," he said, motioning with his head back to the woods. "Do you have any food?"

Alix gave him a suspicious glare. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying, Alix. I went into the woods, got Missy, and got lost. But I'm back now. It's me, I promise." Nathaniel grabbed Alix's hand, and she helped him to his feet before pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank god," she sighed. "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

Nathaniel patted his friend's back. "Thanks for worrying about me," he said, pulling away.

"You should head home," Alix suggested. "Before your mom makes the whole village assemble a search party for you."

"Right."

"And then you come right back here and tell me everything that happened in the forest."

"Got it."

"Good." Alix pushed him a little. "Now get going, slowpoke! Missy, come with me! Missy! Missy, god damn it, listen to me!"

~oOo~

When Nathaniel's mother saw him walking towards the house she instantly burst into tears.

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed, holding him in a tight hug and rocking him back and forth. "Don't ever scare me like that again, please."

"I'm sorry," Nathaniel said, hugging her back. "Is there something I can eat?"

"Of course," his mother replied, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Come in, come in."

Nathaniel let himself be ushered into his own home, sitting on a wooden stool while his mother began to fuss around the kitchen. He pulled out his sketchbook and a pen and began to sketch, taking a moment to breathe in the familiarity of his home until his night in the forest seemed more like a dream than a reality.

There was an unspoken question in the air, one that his mother didn't want to say, but was clear in the tension of her posture, the nervous, pleading glances that she gave him. A question she didn't dare speak aloud. A question that Nathaniel knew he had to answer.

"I got lost in the forest," he said.

His mother stopped moving. He could hear the creak of the window shutters, the distant din of village life, and the shaky breath his mother let out. Everything else seemed silent, waiting.

"And I met a Fey," he finished.

_Now_ it was completely still, quieter than Nathaniel had thought could be possible. His mother turned to look at him, her eyes wide, her bottom lip trembling.

"I'm ok," Nathaniel said. "He didn't...do anything. I didn't tell him my name, or take any gifts, or anything like that. I'm alright."

"Oh, sweetheart." His mother stepped forward, encasing him in another hug. She ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand rubbing circles into his back. "I didn't know. You must have been so scared, I didn't know,"

Gently, Nathaniel pushed her back so he could see her face. Blue eyes met blue eyes. "He wasn't scary," he said, knowing his mother was more scared between the two of them. "He was kind. He even warned me of some tricks that other Feys use. I don't think he's evil."

"Don't say that," his mother insisted. "Please, don't get involved with that kind of magic."

Nathaniel sighed. "I know, mom."

"Remember what happened to Lord Agreste's wife? I don't want you disappearing like her."

"I'll be careful."

"Don't ever go back into those woods again, okay?"

Nathaniel paused.

"Promise me," his mother pleaded, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes red with tears and slick with the likelihood of more. "Promise me, sweetheart."

A knock on the door startled them both.

"Coming!" Nathaniel's mom called, suddenly springing away. Nathaniel slowly slid off the stool and followed her to the front door, where the door opened to a black-haired girl in pigtails.

"Hello, Miss Kurtzberg," Marinette said, holding out a basket of baked goods. "My dad asked me to bring these to you. If there's anything I can do to help, just-" her eyes fell to the red-headed boy and her eyes visibly brightened.

"Hey," Nathaniel said, giving a shy wave to his old friend.

"Nath!" Forgetting her manners, Marinette rushed into the room. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Nathaniel stuttered, taken aback by her sudden focus on him. He glanced over his shoulder to his mother, who was pointedly staring at him and shaking her head.

"I...tripped over a rock in the hills," Nathaniel said. "Hit my head and passed out."

Marinette's eyes grew even wider. "Oh no! Are you injured?" She leaned closer to examine his head.

Nathaniel quickly backed away. "No, no, I'm fine," he insisted. "It was just an unlucky fall."

"Alright," Marinette said, letting out a relieved breath. "At least you're okay."

Nathaniel gave her a thumbs up. "I'm peachy."

"Oh! I should get back to the bakery." Marinette shoved the basket into Nathaniel's hands. "Sorry for intruding! See you at school tomorrow!" She turned and raced out the door.

Miss Kurtzberg chuckled a little. "She's a sweet girl," she muttered, closing the door.

"I should probably get back to the fields," Nathaniel said, grabbing one of the wrapped loaves of bread from the basket and putting it in his satchel. It felt pleasantly warm in his hand, and his stomach growled insistently. "I can't keep Alix waiting forever."

"Here, let me fix breakfast to take with you." His mother quickly finished assembling a variety of foods from the cupboards, folding the package into a cheesecloth and handing it to her son. "And Nathaniel?"

"Yes?"

Her hands tightened over his. "Don't tell anyone about what you saw in the forest."

"Why?"

"The Fey are dangerous, sweetheart. If people knew that you talked to one, they might think you're one of them. They might learn about your magic. You know how the village feels about those things. I just...I don't want them to take you away."

_The village or the Fey?_

Nathaniel looked up at his mother's worried expression and felt a hard lump form in the back of his throat. "I'll be careful," he promised.

"That's all I ask." She gave him one last hug and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Stay safe, dear. I'm going to talk to the guard, let them know you've come back home."

"Love you, mom."

"You too."


	3. The Fey and his Stories

Keeping last night's events a secret proved to be harder than Nathaniel thought, especially when faced with a force like Alix, whose bullshit-catching senses were extremely on point.

"Where'd you hit your head? I don't see any injuries," She pried, circling him in an almost accusatory manner. "I walked up and down these fields for hours this morning, trying to find you! Where did you pass out? Point to the hill."

"I don't remember," Nathaniel lied, holding his satchel in front of his body like a shield.

"You said that you were in the forest this morning," she said, pointing a finger into his chest.

"I wasn't thinking clearly, it was a slip of the tongue! I was near the forest, not in it." Nathaniel internally cringed, feeling the guilt of lying to his best friend weigh in his stomach as though he had eaten rocks.

"Fine," Alix said, raising her hands. "Don't tell me. It's not like I was worried for your life or anything."

Nathaniel grimaced. "I'm sorry, Alix. I made a promise to my Mom."

Alix looked up at Nathaniel's earnest face, and her face softened. "I get it. Another one of your secrets, huh? It's just...we're friends, aren't we?" Her shoulders sagged, looking up at him with a downcast expression.

"Of course we are!" Nathaniel hugged his satchel to his chest. "I want to tell you, I really do. But I can't. Please don't insist."

Alix nodded. "Okay. I won't. But one day I'll get the truth from you, got it?"

Nathaniel sighed. "Maybe one day."

"And you owe me breakfast."

Nathaniel groaned. "Fine."

~oOo~

As the hours of morning melted into the afternoon, Nathaniel and Alix guided the flock closer to the forbidden woods. The midday sun beat relentlessly from above, and the edges of the forest provided shade. A small brook flowed out of the trees, calm and cool, making an ideal resting place for the goats and their herders alike.

Nathaniel was sitting in the grass next to the brook, sketching a picture of Alix while keeping an eye on the goats as they contentedly wandered around him, some of the older goats taking this moment of peace to doze while the more adventurous goats started to wander further downhill. Alix was among the goats that had headed further down the hill, keeping the herd from wandering too far off.

She was barely more than a bright pink shape in the distance at this point. Nathaniel glanced around at the goats around him. Missy was curled up in the grass next to his feet, staring at him with an empty expression.

"What are you looking at?" Nathaniel said, leaning forward to give the old goat a scratch on the head.

Missy's head suddenly jerked back, her body tense. After a second, her ears twitched and she relaxed back into Nathaniel's hand.

Nathaniel felt a prickle in the back of his neck, a gut feeling that suggested he wasn't alone. Slowly, he turned his head and was both surprised and somehow not surprised at all to see a figure in a red cloak standing behind a tree.

There was a small leap of panic again, but not as strong as the first time they'd met. Nathaniel let his sketchbook rest on his knees, leaning his head back against the tree. "

"I guess you were the one that startled Missy," he said.

The Fey shrugged. "Most likely." He stepped forward, his bare feet making no noise in the grass as he stepped to the edge of the woods. "I apologize if I am intruding."

"It's probably alright," Nathaniel said, shifting in the grass. "As long as Al-as long as my friend doesn't see you."

The Fey raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them as he looked out. "Huh. The librarian's daughter. So is she a friend of yours?"

"How did you-"

"I may have friends of my own," the Fey said, sitting at the base of the tree adjacent to Nathaniel. "Don't worry, my intentions are mostly curiosity-based."

"I feel like a lot of your sentences start with 'don't worry,' which doesn't really ease my fears," Nathaniel said, raising an eyebrow.

The Fey smiled. "I don't want you to feel like I am an enemy to you or your village," he said. "I am hoping to establish some trust. If you are willing, of course."

Nathaniel remembered the fear in his mother's eyes, the promise she had asked him to make, to never go into the forest again. Then again, he didn't actually promise that he'd stay away. And he wasn't _in_ the forest, just on the edge of it.

Not to mention the Fey was really pretty.

Not even in the normal sense of pretty, like Marinette with her warm smile and almost overbearing kindness. The Fey seemed almost too perfect, like a part of nature itself had given the most beautiful things in the earth sentience and combined it into a single entity. The Fey looked like he belonged with the rays of filtered sunlight in the trees, like all the world's most colorful flowers were growing in his skin. This was a beauty that Nathaniel felt like he couldn't touch, and so desperately wanted to.

"Sure," he said, opening his sketchbook. "I have some sketches if you want to look at them."

"Could I?"

Nathaniel held his breath as the Fey leaned forward to look over his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, wanting to lean closer, afraid to feel contact.

"Your art is so detailed," the Fey whispered as he traced a hand across the pages in Nathaniel's lap. Nathaniel felt a shiver run down his spine. "This one, this is your friend, right? The librarian's daughter?"

Nathaniel couldn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

"She looks very self-assured," the Fey said, eyebrows furrowing to mimic Alix's expression on the paper.

"She is," Nathaniel said. "She's one of the most confident people I know."

They Fey turned fully to look at him then, face inches away from Nathaniel's. The artist felt his heart hammering against his ribcage as his eyes took in every individual eyelash that framed the Fey's eyes, the curve of his small nose, the rosy pink in his cheeks and his slightly parted lips-

The Fey drew back, pulling his cloak around him. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to...I should go."

"Wait!" Before Nathaniel's mind could catch up to his instincts he had already reached out and grabbed the hem of the Fey's cloak. The Fey froze, halfway in the movement of standing. "You don't have to go," Nathaniel said. "Don't worry."

Slowly, the Fey sat back down, an unreadable expression on his face. Nathaniel let go of the Fey's cloak, feeling very self-conscious.

"Well, I've shown you some of my art," he said, fidgeting under the Fey's rapt attention. "Is there...anything you do?"

"Oh," the Fey said, in a tone that gave away nothing at all. "Well, I sometimes tell stories. But they aren't much good, at least...I don't think they're much good."

"I mean, it doesn't hurt to get a second opinion," Nathaniel said.

"I don't know." The Fey bit the underside of his lip. "There's the chance that you wouldn't enjoy my stories. I'm not as confident in my ability as I want to be."

"You've gotta start somewhere." Nathaniel tapped the cover of his sketchbook with his knuckles. "I promise I won't judge you too harshly. I know what it's like to have people make fun of your art."

The Fey sighed, relaxing into the crook of the tree as though the tree was made specifically to hold him. "Alright then," he said, taking a deep breath, and then proceeded to tell Nathaniel some of the most beautiful stories he'd ever heard.

There, in the afternoon sun, next to a whispering brook and under the shade of the forest outskirts, surrounded by a herd of sleeping goats, Nathaniel listened to the Fey make worlds out of sentences and heroes out of phrases. The Fey's soft voice carried legends and myths through the air with the ease of a bird in the wind, effortless and graceful. Nathaniel listened to every word, committed those stories to memory, watched in awe as the Fey grew more confident and his voice changed from a delicate whisper to an enchanting song.

As if his new friend could be even more incredible, the words that he spoke brought images to life in Nathaniel's imagination, vivid landscapes and scenes that the artist would have drawn then and there if he wasn't so fully engrossed in the Fey's stories.

When the Fey's voice abruptly stopped, Nathaniel blinked once, twice, feeling disoriented at the unexpected return to reality.

"I believe your friend is coming back," the Fey whispered, rising to his feet and backing into the shadows. "I should go."

"Your stories were amazing."

The Fey stared back at Nathaniel. "Really?" His voice was almost a half-laugh, his eyes wide and the barest hint of white teeth peeking from under his smile.

"Yeah," Nathaniel said. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

The Fey, still smiling, stepped briskly behind a tree and was gone.

Nathaniel opened his sketchbook and began to draw, his hands feeling weightless and elegant as he worked.

"Hey."

Alix stood over him, hands on her hips. "Come on, we're moving."

Nathaniel paused, his pen still hovering above the paper. "Right now?"

"Yes, now."

The artist stretched, working out the tension in his arms and legs. "Got it. Just gimme a second."

Alix frowned at him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've got the weirdest grin on your face, like someone just appointed you the King of Art or something."

"Something like that," Nathaniel mumbled, closing his sketchbook with a regretful sigh and pushing himself to his feet. The goats around him began to stir, blinking at the world with glassy eyes.

The world seemed a bit more colorful today. Even as Nathaniel climbed over rocks and ushered the herd along old paths, his head was caught up in fairy tales and Feys.

He was absolutely, completely falling for the Fey.

He couldn't wait to go back.


	4. The Magic and Mankind

Nathaniel found himself making more and more excuses to travel near the forest. He herded the goats next to the woods, and when Alix raised a questioning eyebrow, he just shrugged and said "The goats like it better over here since there's shade and more plants."

At night, when he couldn't fall asleep, he started slipping away into the hills, past the guards on their drowsy, half-caring patrols, to stand at the edge of the woods and wait. And every time, the Fey would be there, with a smile that only seemed to be brighter every time Nathaniel saw it.

Together, they would sit at the edge of the woods, trading stories and art, or just talking. Nathaniel found it easy to talk to the Fey, easier than with any of his classmates. There were some things he kept close to his chest, like his name, and he knew the Fey always chose his words carefully. But he learned.

He learned that the Fey had grown up among humans, and knew the social cues that other Feys would ignore or misuse, such as the giving of names or the offering of food.

"The reason you can't accept food from Feys is because our food is grown with magic," his friend explained. "Once you eat it, everything else will taste like dust. You'd probably have to find a way to get a constant supply of food from the Feys or starve to death. Because of this, a lot of Feys consider humans offering them food as an insult."

"That's harsh," Nathaniel said with a wince. "Can goats eat Fey food?"

"I don't know. Do you suppose we should try?"

"Heh. Maybe not."

He learned that the Fey, despite his graceful demeanor, was somewhat awkward when it came to people. They bonded over stories of embarrassing encounters and unnamed friends doing stupid things.

He learned that his new friend had a soft touch, casually leaning into his shoulder to look over his sketchbook, idly knocking his leg against Nathaniel's as they sat together in the grass, once, even running his hands through Nathaniel's hair to remove stray twigs and leaves. Nathaniel had barely breathed, just closed his eyes as the Fey's long fingers moved across his scalp, cautious and careful and _perfect_.

One night, Nathaniel was lying in the grass, watching the moon rise over the trees while the Fey sat on the ground beside him, holding his sketchbook and flipping through the pages.

"I read about Feys in the library," Nathaniel said, watching the twinkling stars and trying to imagine lines and shapes between them. "I wanted to see if the stories matched up to what you've told me."

The Fey gave a half-amused glance at him. "And?"

"Some of them seemed true. Some of them...didn't. There was one book about changelings, which are apparently when Feys steal kids and switch them out for baby Feys that wreak havoc on the family?"

"I believe it's false," the Fey said. "The story most likely originated because parents didn't want to admit they had problem children."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Nathaniel stretched his arms over his head, yawning. "There was something I didn't get, though."

"Hmmm?"

"None of the books can describe what kind of magic Feys do," Nathaniel said. "One book said they can shapeshift, another said they can heal, another said they have super strength-the list goes on and on, by the way."

The Fey sighed in the way that Nathaniel came to recognize as a sigh of mild amusement. "We Fey tend to be mysterious with our magic," he said, wiggling his fingers in the grass.

"Well, can a single Fey really do all that?"

"I don't believe so."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows as the Fey scratched the bridge of his nose, looking out into the distance. "There are some abilities that pretty much any Fey can do, like commanding their specified domain, but Feys generally have a specific kind of magic that they can use. Within that area of expertise, they have one ability completely unique to them. It's similar to your mental conjuring."

"My what?"

"You can create things by thinking about it, right? That's likely a form of conjuration."

"That's a pretentious word for it."

"Coming from the person who uses words like 'pretentious'?"

"Directed at the person who speaks in the most confusing sentences possible."

"Alright," the Fey said, "what would you call your abilities?"

"..."

The Fey gave him a smug grin.

"Shut up!" Nathaniel stuck out his tongue at the Fey, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, what's your ability, then?"

The Fey gave a less genuine smile, hunching in on himself. "I'm an enchanter."

"What's that mean?" Nathaniel watched as the Fey pulled his hood over his head, hiding his face in shadows.

"Well....I can control people."

Nathaniel sat up, turning to face his friend. He had his knees tucked into his chest, almost completely hidden under his cape.

"Specifically, I can reverse any aspect of a person," the Fey continued. "Joy becomes despair, strength becomes weakness, et cetera."

A cold breeze swept through the hills, carrying a small chill up Nathaniel's back.

"You...don't seem happy about that," Nathaniel said.

The Fey looked at him. "I used to hate my powers. Hyperbolically speaking, I would have given anything to have been born with a different ability. Recent times have only supported that feeling."

"What do you mean?"

The Fey turned away. "I tried to hunt down Hawkmoth a few months ago. He also specializes in enchantments, so I thought I could resist his magic, reverse his abilities and save this world." His figure seemed to become even smaller as he pulled the edges of his cloak even tighter together. "I tried to fight him, and...and he got to me first."

Nathaniel stared, speechless, as the Fey spoke.

"He forced me to target my friends and family. I hurt a lot of people, some of them were people I didn't even know. Eventually, I was forced to fight the very patron deities of this land: Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"But they saved you. You lost," Nathaniel said, voice barely above a whisper.

"I almost didn't. That's the scariest part to me. I almost defeated them."

The Fey pulled a few strands of grass from the ground, weaving them together. "Since then I swore to never use my powers again. I'm afraid of what I can do. I'm afraid of Hawkmoth finding me again, using me. In honesty, I'm somewhat envious of your abilities, friend."

"What?"

"Your abilities are for creation, not destruction. You could do so much good with your powers, and I..." the Fey looked at his hands. "I just get people hurt."

"That's not true." Nathaniel took one of the Fey's hands in his own, his calloused fingers intertwining with the Fey's slender ones. The Fey gave a small, almost imperceptible gasp.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and continued. "My mother used to tell me something: Magic is like fire. You can use it to warm a man or burn him."

Carefully, almost lovingly, Nathaniel pulled the hood away, letting the moon's rays sift through the Fey's raven hair. "You're not like Hawmoth," he said, rubbing his thumb against the side of the Fey's palm. "Your magic isn't evil, even if the rest of the world sees it that way. Hell, Hawkmoth akumatized me once, too. I know better than anyone that my powers can be used to destroy pretty effectively."

Nathaniel's fingertips began to glow with a soft blue light, and he turned his palms upward, letting the Fey hold his hands as he focused. The blue light drifted upwards, turning into specks of orange, yellow, red.

The Fey let out a shaky breath, watching as glowing embers danced and swirled around them in the grass like fireflies. The area was bathed in a soft orange glow, warm and magical in both a literal and picturesque sense.

Slowly, Nathaniel turned his hands over so his palms were pressed against the Fey's. They sat, cross-legged in the grass, the only things in this world that mattered anymore.

"You're smart, and clever, and an incredible storyteller," Nathaniel continued. "Your magic doesn't have to be used for bad things. I think...I think you can create with your magic, too."

The orange glow of the ember lights highlighted the red in the Fey's cheeks. Specks of gold were reflected in his green eyes, shining brighter than any gemstone. His lips pressed together, and the corners of his eyes lifted into a smile that was brimming with tears.

"Thank you," the Fey said.

Nathaniel didn't know who leaned forward first, but as two slender hands traveled up his arms and neck, cupping his face, and emerald-colored eyes fluttered closed and pink lips parted slightly-it didn't really matter.

The Fey kissed him, the barest brush of soft lips against his own, then stilled, waiting. _Is this okay?_ A silent question, a final chance to pull away and pretend nothing had happened.

Nathaniel leaned forward and kissed him back.

His fingers found their way into the Fey's hair, grasping, stroking, pulling. The Fey wrapped his arms around Nathaniel's body, pulling him closer, hands traveling down his shoulder blades, nails across his spine, resting firmly against his hips and repositioning them so the artist was halfway into the Fey's lap.

When Nathaniel pulled away to gasp for breath, the Fey chased his lips back again. Nathaniel ran the fingers of one hand under his hood, along the nape of the Fey's neck, feeling the pulse of his throat as he gasped into the kiss, the other hand over the Fey's chest, pushing him down, down into the grass, his heartbeat erratic against Nathaniel's palm, Nathaniel's heart responding with an insistent pounding.

Teeth scraped against his bottom lip. Fingers dug into his back. One leg curled around his own, pulling him closer into the grass, the Fey, the world. Nathaniel trailed kisses along the Fey's jawline, his neck, living in the warmth of skin beneath his lips and the tickle of soft hair against his nose.

_This is our promise_ , the kisses said. _This is our contract. You and me. We belong together, the two of us._

A bond tied them together now, not by magic or the trickster rules of the Feys; this bond was stronger.

As Nathaniel pulled back, lungs burning for air, he saw the smile on the Fey's face, black hair splayed across the grass and sweat gleaming on his skin as green eyes and blue eyes met again and again in a way that promised to never break. Nathaniel's hands were bunched into the Fey's red cape on either side of his body, and one of the Fey's hands was pushing the hair out of his eyes. The other hand was on Nathaniel's thigh, bringing attention to the fact that the artist was essentially straddling him, hips pressing him to the ground.

"Okay," Nathaniel said between heavy breaths. His lips felt both numb and hypersensitive, as though he would only ever be able to taste those magical pink lips for eternity.

"That happened." A breath and a laugh escaped the Fey's lips. "Wow...uh...."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The orange embers disintegrated into a scattering of blue lights, pulling Nathaniel back into reality. Somewhat awkwardly, he clambered off of the Fey, helping him back up to a sitting position.

"I would like you to stay for a while," the Fey said.

"I should probably go home," Nathaniel replied, slipping his hand into the Fey's anyway and making no move to get up.

The Fey draped his arm around Nathaniel's shoulders, pulling the two of them closer together under his cloak. Nathaniel sighed into the warmth and smell of his Fey, feeling his eyelids grow heavy as his companion ran his fingers through Nathaniel's hair in soothing circles.

"You're important to me," the Fey whispered, tucking his head into the crook of Nathaniel's neck. "I want you to know that."

"You're important to me, too," Nathaniel replied, feeling the upturn of the Fey's lips on his neck as his arms circled Nathaniel, hugging him. Nathaniel leaned back into the Fey's chest, feeling tired, feeling loved.

"It's Marc."

"Huh?"

"My name," the Fey said, letting his hands idly drift across Nathaniel's arms, down to his wrists, his hands. He linked his fingers with Nathaniel's, lifting their hands up so he could plant a light kiss on the artist's knuckles. "My name is Marc Anciel."

"Oh." Nathaniel turned to the Fey, to Marc. "My-my name is Nathaniel Kurtzberg," he said, his throat feeling dry. "I guess we're done with the whole keeping names thing, then."

Marc hummed thoughtfully, still holding Nathaniel's hand to his lips. "Nathaniel," he whispered, and a shiver ran through the artist's whole body. Hearing his name spoken so softly, so tenderly-

"You owe me a favor," Nathaniel blurted, biting his lip. "Before we...kissed. You thanked me."

"I did," Marc said, growing a little tense.

"So as a favor, can you hear me out?"

A pause. "I'm listening," his companion hummed.

"I love you," Nathaniel said, feeling the words exit his throat heavy and leave his heart weightless. "Marc, I...this...this, as a relationship...it isn't going to be easy but I want to try. With you."

Marc- _Marc, Marc, Marc,_ \- relaxed and planted a kiss to Nathaniel's cheek. "I love you too," he whispered. "Since the day I saw you in the forest, I felt drawn to you."

"In a love kind of way or a steal-my-soul kind of way?"

"Oh, Nathaniel," Marc said, in such a fond voice that Nathaniel's face began to turn red and a warmth pooled in his gut, "I don't think there's a difference for us."

_You're mine,_ the forest that was Marc and all of his spiraling, beautiful words said. _You're mine and I'm yours._

_Forever and always_ , the hills that were Nathaniel responded, honest and endless. _I'll love you for eternity._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the end. This has been a fun ride, thank you for all of your comments, they really warm my heart!  
> I may return to this world in another fic eventually; there a lot of potential for worldbuilding here.  
> If you want to see the concept art, look no further than here: https://christallizedaccomplice.tumblr.com/post/623723351744118784/concept-art-for-between-the-woods-and-the-hills-a  
> Thank you all for reading!


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